


the stars that pour every time you laugh

by softtofustew



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Crack, Drabble, Drinking, Drunk!Mark, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, M/M, PizzaBoy!Winwin, markwin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-28
Updated: 2018-11-28
Packaged: 2019-09-01 19:40:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,114
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16771594
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/softtofustew/pseuds/softtofustew
Summary: mark pays no mind as he throws an arm dismissively over his eyes in exasperation. “why didn’t i get his number again?” he mutters under his breath, frustrated.johnny hums as he clicks to another channel on the television. “because you’rethemark lee,thepanicked gay.”mark’s idle summer student life is subtly disrupted by the cute pizza delivery boy named winwin, and johnny just wants noodles instead.





	the stars that pour every time you laugh

**Author's Note:**

> title: fly away with me by nct 127 // 
> 
> my first nct work!! this one’ll be short but sweet. i hope you like it <33

“bro, can you get the door?” johnny asks, his eyes glued to the television screen as the soap opera unfolds before them. beside him, mark sips his soda complacently, budging not even an inch from the couch. johnny prods mark's rib. “get the door, loser.”

“you're several inches closer. and you've got longer legs,” mark protests, before sipping loudly from his drink. rolling his eyes, johnny grabs the bottle from mark, who yelps in surprise. the two have been lounging around for almost three hours now, both of their butts almost permanently glued to the fabric of their worn-out couch **.** the summer evening air seeps through the drawn curtains as the television flickers with colour. 

johnny sips from the bottle of soda. “get it, man. our dinner’s outside.” mark grumbles in protest, scrambling to his feet just as the doorbell rings yet another time. he utters curse words under his breath as he storms over to the front doorway. his butt’s beginning to ache as he traipses over to the door and wrenches it open to reveal the pizza delivery boy.

the guy at the door is stunned for a split second, before plastering on a small smile. chestnut brown hair peeks out from under his cap. his eyes are bright, lips tugging into a wider smile. “mark lee?” he asks, his voice smooth. at this, he raises the two cardboard boxes in his hands. “two large pepperoni pizzas?”

mark blinks.  _ blinkblinkblink _ . “yes. mark’s that. i mean, that’s mark. that’s me.”  _ what are words anymore? _ he wonders as he stares at the delivery boy square in the eye, transfixed as the delivery boy chuckles. the latter reaches around his back pocket to retrieve his pen, and when he does, mark catches sight of a nametag pinned to the other’s jacket.  _ winwin _ .

“it’s fifteen dollars,” winwin chirps, before placing the pen on top of the slip, taped to the front of the cardboard box. “sign there, too.” the other barely remembers how to hold a pen as he scribbles a hasty signature across the top, and then pulling out a wad of cash from his own jean pocket. all the while, winwin watches him quietly, smiling affectionately when a five-dollar bill flutters out of the boy’s pocket and to the wood of the porch. 

“uh, yeah, um,” mark fumbles over his words as he leans down to grab the bill. when he stands, he’s startled by winwin laughing at his antics. “here.” 

“thank you,” the delivery boy offers one last grin as he takes up the cash, before stuffing it into his pocket and handing over the boxes. they almost crash to the ground when mark misses the grip on the pizzas. “see you around, mark.” with that said, he turns on his heel and stalks off. mark cranes his neck to check out the boy swinging a leg over a delivery motorbike casually, before revving the engine. within seconds he’s off, leaving mark rooted to the ground, pizzas turning colder with every passing second in his hands. 

he’s only snapped out of his daze when he hears johnny’s voice resound from the living room. “oi, marksie! are you taking a shit at the door or something?” the boy shakes his head before swivelling around and darting back to the living room. 

when he re-emerges in the room, johnny peers up from the television. “what took you so damn long?” he quizzes as mark absent-mindedly sets the boxes down onto the coffee table. “i thought you were baking the pizzas outside.”

“well,  _ obviously _ only a dumbass would think that,” mark mutters under his breath as he lifts one of the cardboard boxes up. 

johnny chuckles. “takes one to know one, dumbass,” he shoots back. he’s about to take a slice when he catches the expression practically etched into mark’s face. “no. delivery girl was hot? tits or ass?”

“ew, straight!” mark wrinkles his nose. “delivery  _ boy _ was cute.”

his friend snorts, grabbing a slice of pizza. a strip of cheese stretches out from the slice. “ _ cute _ ? not even hot? well… tastes are tastes. did you get his number?” when there comes no response, johnny laughs and almost drops the slice of pizza. “dude, you’re such a wimp. what kind of mark lee would think a delivery boy is cute and  _ not _ get his digits?”

“ _ this _ mark lee,” mark groans as he jams the pizza into his mouth to stop the conversation from continuing. his friend seems to have other plans, though, as he sidles up mark’s side. 

“think about this,” johnny begins, raising his eyebrows animatedly. “you think delivery boy is cute. you don’t have your number, but you have that.” with that, he jerks his chin out at the pamphlet thrown carelessly onto the coffee table. splayed across the bottom of it is the number of the pizza place. “think about it, man,” he finishes off, before taking a huge bite out of his slice.

for once, mark thinks johnny actually has some brain cells amongst all that bullshit in the american dude’s head.

**_______________**

it’s four days later, a friday evening, when johnny groans at the sight of cardboard boxes dumped onto the coffee table. “dude, what the actual fuck,” he grumbles, frustrated at the scent of pepperoni leaking from the boxes. “it’s the third time in five days. i’m going to puke at the sight of pizza again.”

mark sighs as he plops himself down onto the couch. “not him.”

“well, there’s at least two dozen delivery guys and girls running around giving out pizzas like they’re on the run for paychecks on the 31st, my friend,” johnny slaps mark’s back. “so can you please stop ordering pizzas and shoving them down my throat? i’m craving noodles at the moment.” he makes a show of sticking his tongue out in mock disgust as he lifts the cover of the cardboard boxes.

mark pays no mind as he throws an arm dismissively over his eyes in exasperation. “why didn’t i get his number again?” he mutters under his breath, frustrated.

johnny hums as he clicks to another channel on the television. “because you’re  _ the _ mark lee,  _ the _ panicked gay.”

“did you just-”

“-quote you after a meme? you got that right.” johnny smirks a little before settling for a horrendous soap opera with an even more horrendous storyline and cast of characters. (“the ladies are hella hot,” he’d argued in his defence the last time mark had openly judged him about the other’s love for horrendous soap operas. mark can’t say anything back; it’s not like they’ve ever been appealing in his eyes.)

“asshole,” mark grumbles under his breath. as he retrieves his cell phone from the coffee table, it lights up with a message from jaehyun. (aka, the-straight-hottie-senior-from-business, but mark keeps that to himself) “yo, dude. what the fuck?”

johnny leans over to scan the message across mark’s screen. “what?”   
  
“there’s a party here tomorrow? what the hell? and you didn’t bother telling me?” mark accuses, jamming a finger against his housemate’s chest. “are you kidding me?”

“ah,” johnny scratches his head. he runs his fingers through his jet black hair. “knew i forgot something. sorry.” he does not look sorry at all.

mark groans, sinking back down and hoping the couch can swallow his whole body. he slaps the phone screen-first onto the couch, his lips pulling into a pout. “why is the world suddenly so against me?” he whines, kicking his legs out and promptly knocking his foot on the leg of the table. he screeches in pain, grabbing his aching foot.

beside him, johnny leans over to grab a slice of pizza, unresponsive to mark almost screaming over his jammed pinkie toe. “because you’re mark lee, mark lee.”

**_______________**

bass pounds from the speakers, the tunes played by johnny at the front of the living room, headphones jammed on. on the other hand, mark is almost crushed to death between jungwoo and lucas, both dancing to the beat. kids from uni mill about the space, some of whom mark’s spoken to before, others whom mark has never even laid eyes on before. leave it to jung jaehyun, resident hottie, to attract the whole campus of students in johnny and mark’s two-storey rented house like bees to a goddamned hive. 

currently, mark manages to weasel himself out of lucas’ “heyyyyy man, wassup?” and awkward questions but instead swivels around to face yuta. the accounting major gives mark a huge grin, raising his hands. on either of them is a solo red cup. “marksie! have one of them,” he offers, and before mark can protest, yuta shoves a cup into his hand. “taeil mixed it up. take care - there were a couple of bottles on the counter.”

with that, yuta shimmies himself out of there and into jungwoo’s open arms. sighing, mark takes one look at the solo cup and its contents, before downing it. the sting of vodka, lemonade, and - is that  _ gin _ ? - marks a burning trail down his throat. he tilts his head back to let down the last drop, before slamming the cup down onto the coffee table. 

god, why is he even drinking?

despite the little conscience left in his brain telling him to stop, mark drags himself to the kitchen to catch taeil mixing up exotic drinks. and exotic they are - bottles of all sorts of alcoholic drinks are splayed out in display on the countertop. a girl mark has never seen in his life is clinging to taeil’s side, and it takes all of mark not to gag in his mouth.

“lee minhyung, come on over and try this one,” taeil hollers above the din in the kitchen. mark shrivels under the unwanted attention, all eyes on him as he shuffles over to the counter. grinning, his friend thrusts out a solo cup. “i call this one  _ the moonshine _ .”

leave it to moon taeil to make up such exotic names to go with exotic drinks, mark thinks to himself as he accepts the drink. he gulps down the drink, before pulling back abruptly.

“what the  _ fuck _ ,” mark clutches his head, dizzy, “was in that shit?”

taeil scratches his head. “to be frank… i kind of forgot? a mix of everything, i guess.” he offers a sheepish grin as mark shakes his head at him. still, he glances down at the liquids in his cup before inhaling sharply and tilting the rest of the drink past his lips. several catcalls and whistles erupt from the others around him, but mark pays no mind (as usual), instead wiping his wet lips with the back of his palm.

“nice one, marksie,” taeil chuckles, but mark barely hears him as he stumbles over his footing out the door. he’s always been a light drinker from the day he’d been aged enough to run alcohol down his throat, so the adrenaline begins kicking in as he pads back into the living room. johnny is still jamming some tunes at the sound mixers, the people in the room are still grinding up on each other. mark crushes the solo cup in his grip before tossing it into the trash can (and missing it). grinning, he sidles up to a couple of the juniors from medicine and throws an arm around donghyuck while chatting with the others. but as the seconds drag on, his words get more slurred, the disgusting ‘moonshine' cocktail pounding in his blood as his grins get sloppier and his hands get touchier.

several songs later, the doorbell resounds throughout the house. mark pries his arm off of donghyuck lazily, fumbling with his steps. “cooooming!” he shouts above the music, and all eyes are on him (again) as he trips over his footing out the living room. he shuffles down the hallway drowsily, and when he reaches the door, he wrenches it open to reveal a surprised winwin and five cardboard boxes in his hands.

“hey,” winwin says lightly, a small smile perched on his lips. mark grips the doorway tighter, just to contain himself from swooning at the sight of the delivery boy. “someone ordered five large pizzas?”

mark grins. “heyyyyy,” he drawls. he shifts his weight, trying to stand upright. he kind of fails, instead tripping over his right foot and milling an arm out to steady himself. “yeahh, i think we ordered some a while ago? i think? not sure?” 

winwin mirrors mark’s wide grin. “thirty-five dollars,” he chirps.

the other boy digs around in his jean pocket for his wallet. all the while, his eyes linger on the delivery boy’s wide eyes and pursed lips. “yeah, i’ll just. they’re somewhere here.” he doesn’t know where all this confidence is surging from, but he puts his thumb and pointer fingers together to form a heart and yanks them out from his pocket. “for you!” 

he dissolves into a fit of giggles, the other hand gripping the doorway as he doubles over in laughter. before him, winwin tries hard not to laugh, but it’s tough when a very drunk mark is slurring over his words and shooting finger hearts at you. “thank you? but you still have to pay in money,” winwin points out.

“riiiight,” mark chuckles, before pulling his wallet out. “take all my money.”

winwin furrows his eyebrows, his gaze landing onto the wallet back to mark’s dancing eyes. “what?”

“kidding,” mark giggles like a little school boy, opening his wallet and drunkenly counting out thirty-five dollars. “y’know, i’m getting very, verrryyyy broke. like, i’ve been ordering pizza this whole week, because, like. the pizza is very, veryyy delicious.” his eyes dart up to meet winwin’s confused ones. “also, where have you been? i haven’t seen you this whole week.”

“last time i checked, we weren’t boyfriends,” winwin jokingly teases.

mark shrugs. “i thought you were - are - cute.” he watches the redness make its up to the tips of the delivery boy’s ears. so fucking cute. “so i kept ordering pizza. wanted to see you again.”

winwin laughs nervously. “why did you do that? you could’ve just asked for my number,” he points out, pocketing the cash and handing mark a ballpoint pen to sign. when their fingertips graze slightly, mark’s heart leaps in his chest, and it  _ must _ show in his face or something because winwin’s smile conforms into a small taunting smirk. it drives mark past the edge.

“come closer,” mark whispers. when his lips are just hovering past winwin’s ear, he dramatically hisses, “because i’m  _ the _ mark lee,  _ the _ panicked gay. according to my very straight best friend, johnny seo.”

“ _ what _ ?” winwin almost chokes on air. the laughter is endless now. “go back in, mark. you’re so drunk.” it sounds accusatory, but the bright eyes and flushed cheeks give him away.

“will i see you again? if i order pizza again?” mark pouts, pursing his lips. his head pounds to the beat of his heart, the pace picking up as winwin keeps eye contact with him. their eyes are still locked when winwin pulls a blank slip out from his shirt pocket and scribbles something hastily across it. mark lets his eyes wander to winwin’s slender fingers, deftly gripping the pen. “woahhh, are you giving me your  _ autograph _ ? holy shit.”

this time, winwin shakes his head. “you’re so hopelessly drunk,” he murmurs, before passing mark the pizzas and the slip on the top of the cardboard box. there’s a skip of the latter’s heart when he finds numbers scrawled on the slip of paper. “go back inside, mark lee.”

“you won’t kiss me first?” the confidence spills the words past his lips, and mark doesn’t regret them; god, he doesn’t, not when the mixtures of alcohol are thrumming through his veins. he watches winwin blush harder, now almost the colour of beetroot when he takes a tentative step closer. when mark leans back against the doorway, winwin leans over to press his lips softly against mark’s cheek, lips grazing skin. 

“woah,” mark gasps aloud, and it’s the most hilarious thing ever. winwin stifles a chuckle when he pulls back. “woah.”

“is that all that’s left in your vocabulary now?” winwin taunts. but mark pays no attention, not when the cutest delivery boy alive just left him the cutest kiss on his cheek. he’s still floating on cloud nine as he grins at the other. “anyhow. i’ll be going. please stop ordering pizzas just to see me, okay? you don’t wanna get diabetic or something.”

“okay,” mark gives in easily. before winwin turns and walks out, mark waves at him furiously, the other hand balancing the pizza boxes. “bye bye, winwin!” he bursts into laughter at the double repetitive words, but his hand is still there, waving, and winwin has to suck in his entire gut to not run over and kiss the life out of the drunk boy. the delivery boy jokingly blows mark a kiss, before hurrying off to his motorbike. this time, mark smiles, hopelessly in love as the other revs the engine and is soon off into the distance, the trail of smoke curling behind him.

sighing, the boy glances at the slip of paper in his hand, his heart still racing fervently as he darts back into the house, shutting the front door close behind him, pizzas cold in his hands.

**_______________**

**you [08:35]** who’s this?

**? [08:36]** you really don’t know who i am?

**? [08:36]** you must’ve been srsly drunk

**you [08:36** ] what?

**? [08:37]** haha

**? [08:37]** it’s me

**? [08:37]** the cute delivery boy

**you [08:38]** what?

**winwin [08:39]** did you really forget?

**winwin [08:40]** i gave u my number

**you [08:41]** oh

**winwin [08:41]** you busy today?

**you [08:41]** no. why?

**winwin [08:43]** you wanna hang out today?

**winwin [08:44]** no pizzas, just us

**you [08:47]** brb

“mark, what the actual fu-” johnny walks into the bedroom to see mark thrashing his bed, kicking at the blankets as he buries his face into the pile of pillows. his phone is there, the screen lighting up on the bedside table as mark squeals with excitement. “mark, what’s going on?”

mark grins as he sits up straight, bouncing on the bed. “ha! in your  _ face _ , johnny seo! guess who is  _ the _ mark lee, the  _ confident _ gay now!”

johnny arches an eyebrow. “so  _ that’s _ why you were grinding your ass against my sound mixer in front of everyone last night? interesting.” with that, johnny hums, seating himself down at his desk and flipping his laptop open, leaving mark with a mortified expression and burying his head back into the pillows out of sheer, pathetic embarrassment.

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> [twitter](https://twitter.com/softtofustew_) // [curious cat](https://curiouscat.me/softtofustew_) // [tumblr](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/softtofustew)


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